


A Refund, Once And For All

by ApocalypseThen



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Con Artists, Gen, Mass Effect Kink Meme, Refunds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 04:31:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15356298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApocalypseThen/pseuds/ApocalypseThen
Summary: In a world falling apart at the seams...One man stands apart.He lost his job, his woman, and his toaster oven.Now Refund Guy is putting a team together.He won't quit until he gets...Reimbursed"One man. One refund. No store credit."





	1. The Cracker

**Author's Note:**

> For a kink meme prompt.  
> https://masseffectkink.dreamwidth.org/8718.html?thread=43623950#cmt43623950

"Just make sure," said Niftu, "that I'm not disturbed." He activated his omnitool. "You don't get paid," he continued, "if I get caught."

The teenage street kid he'd chosen as lookout nodded. "Got it."

Niftu triggered his hack and the security doors slid open. "Three minutes," he muttered absently.

Waddling over to the safe took at least thirty seconds. But there wasn't a secure locker, deposit box or safe on the Citadel that Niftu Cal couldn't crack in under two minutes.

"Typical," he muttered. The safe was set into the wall, far above his reach. With a flick of his arm, his step-ladder click-clacked into its extended configuration. Levering himself up each of the three steps took another thirty seconds.

Niftu came face to face with the safe for the first time. "Cipritine Arma-lock," he said, "X6. Child's... play."

He waved his omnitool over the surface of the safe and watched the readings from his custom scan program. "Open," he said, thumping a particular point on the casing with his free hand. "Sesame."

The safe clicked and the door sprang open, catching Niftu on the top of his head. Surprised, he took a step backwards into empty space and tumbled heavily to the floor.

"Ohh," he said, levering himself to a sitting position. He looked up at the safe. A pile of disturbed documents avalanched out. As he watched, a loosely-wrapped package teetered on the lip of the safe and fell. It bounced off all three steps of his short ladder and fell between his feet, puffing a fine powder into the air with each impact.

"Oh dear." Niftu felt the familiar narcotic rush as the powder penetrated his exo-suit filters. "Not again."

He was past caring when C-Sec hacked through his lockout and arrested him. "You don't know," he wheezed at the arresting officers, "who you're dealing with! Great Wind," he drew down an arm glowing with biotic energy, "blow!"

The puff of biotic breath tickled the arresting officer's mandibles as he was bending down to slap on the cuffs.

"Oh, my head," said Niftu as he came to in the C-Sec holding cell. He rolled gingerly into an upright position, his back to the cage.

A C-Sec officer came through to the door of the holding area. "Niftu Cal," he said. "Up to your old tricks again, I see."

"Commander," said Niftu weakly, "Bailey. I wish... to report a crime. That safe..."

"Was full of red sand," Bailey finished for him. "Just like every other safe you seem to crack. Anyone might think you have a drug problem, Cal."

"But you," protested Niftu, "know me, Commander. I take pride... in my work. I don't use... performance enhancers."

"Sure. You're just another honest criminal," said Bailey. "Explain something to me, Cal. It seems like every time we pick you up, we get a red sand dealer for free. It's almost like you're doing us a favour."

"Then perhaps," replied Niftu, "we might discuss... bail terms."

"Well, let me see now." Bailey made a show of consulting his slate. "We still haven't recovered the proscribed weapon upgrades stolen from the Saronis Applications vault last month. Or the jewels that were taken from the private safe of the Hegemony consul the month before that. You wouldn't happen to know anything about those robberies, would you?"

"Would that," Niftu wheezed, "I did, Commander. As I understand, the thief... left no traces. It must have been someone... highly skilled. I would like... to meet them."

"Is that right," said Bailey. "Well, since this isn't your first offence I think bail's a lot to ask, don't you?"

For few moments there was no sound but Niftu's noisy breathing as he got to his feet and crossed the small cage. He stood before Bailey, craning upwards. "I may have heard something," he said, "about a deal. But... you didn't hear it from me."

"I'm listening," said Bailey.

"The sector seven warehouse," said Niftu, "Tonight."

"And what am I going to find at the sector seven warehouse, Cal?" Bailey asked.

"Enough to fill your," Niftu said, "cells with real criminals. Violent... men."

"And if I had to turn loose some minor troublemakers to make room..." Bailey said, playing along.

"My thinking... exactly."

"We'll see. Sit tight then, Cal," said Bailey. He moved on to the next cage. "You," he said.

"Yeah?" the man in the cell replied.

"We got in touch with the contact you gave us," said Bailey. "She said, and I quote: 'I never heard of the guy. Put up his bail? Are you out of your mind?' Actually, I cleaned it up a bit, but you get the idea. Funny. She was kind of upset for someone who claimed she didn't know you."

"Story of my life," said the man.

"Although if Cal here's as good as his word I might just have to cut you loose anyway," Bailey continued. "But if you go back and harass that store clerk again, next time I'll send you to general processing. Who knows what kind of messed up tweaker you'll be sharing a cell with -- no offence, Cal -- you get me?"

"Yeah. OK, Commander. Thanks," he said.

Bailey looked down at his slate, then hard into the man's eyes for a moment. He walked out.

The man settled back on the hard bench. He looked over at Niftu. "So, you come here often?" he asked.

Niftu tilted his head sideways just a little. "Incompetence is... a solid alibi," he replied.

"Interesting."


	2. The Conman

"Who's the mark?"

The tall turian turned his languid gaze to face the new arrival, but his body remained steadfastly directed elsewhere. "Hello to you too."

"It's been too long, Rolan."

"That it has." His eyes narrowed. "What brings you down here?"

"You know, the bright lights, the outfits."

Rolan Quarn, seven feet of suave in a silk tuxedo, finally stood up straight. "How was prison?"

"I wasn't there long enough to find out."

Rolan's attention drifted, his eyes on the casino floor. "Funny how you seem to show up..."

He waited politely for Rolan to finish his thought. He waved at the bartender and pointed at a bottle.

"Sorry," said Rolan. "Other things on my mind."

"I'm bothering you." He took a sip of his drink.

Rolan turned to the bar. He tilted his head sideways quizzically, looked at the drink in the man's hand for a moment. "Are you sure you want to drink that?"

"I've been behind bars. I need to wind down."

Rolan gently took the drink from his grasp. "Do I need to call Tess?"

He shrugged. "She's not talking to me right now."

Rolan barely had to lift a finger to have the bartender at his side. He handed back the drink. "My friend needs a club soda."

They stood there for a minute or two, scanning the crowd. "Thanks."

Rolan nodded. "Any time. This isn't just a social call, is it?"

"I did have something in mind." He paused. "Aegohr Munitions."

If turians had eyebrows, Rolan's would have jumped. "You're an arms dealer now?"

He shook his head. "Let me tell you the story..."

Rolan interrupted. "Before you get into it. Promise me one thing. This isn't about the refund. If you think getting it will make Tess take you back..."

"It's not about that --- although that is how I found about it. And it's not about her." He didn't even know if he was lying, at that point. It might have been true. What he did know for sure was that Rolan wouldn't be able to resist a sweet score with a theatrical flourish, so he talked that part up in his explanation. The turian grifter had a weakness for grand gestures. Him and Niftu would doubtless play nicely together.

Rolan stroked his mandibles as he listened, his eyes on the casino floor. "OK. OK. You're going to need a crew to pull it off, though. At the very least a hacker, a cracker and some muscle."

"You forgot the handsome conman."

"Flattery will get you places."

"So you're in."

"Please. Tess would trim my fringe if I didn't keep an eye on you."

"Nice image."

Rolan's lazy scan of the casino had zeroed in on a slender turian by the gambling machines. There was some electric eye contact going on. "I know."

"That the mark?"

"That's my date." He grinned, all teeth. "He's about to win big."

"You sure?"

Rolan looked at him languidly. "Pretty sure." He pushed off from the bar, backed away a couple of steps. "I know a hacker works out of Zakera Ward, mid-levels. Good reputation. Hungry. Ready for the big time."

"I'll check it out."

Rolan slid away with a slick pirouette. About half the eyes in the room followed him across the floor.


	3. The Hacker

"Most nights I eat nutrient paste?" he whispered, folding away his newspaper.

The tall Quarian tilted her head towards the man at the next table. "I happen to _like_ nutrient paste." Her three-fingered hand pounced on the broadsheet. "What is that? Text printed on... cellulose? What is that for?"

"It's called a newspaper. Daily events and information."

"How quaint. So it's not just for hiding behind until you're ready to make a dramatic entrance?"

"Uh... sure. But it's also unhackable. I'm security conscious." He nodded primly for emphasis.

"Do you know what we call someone who hasn't mastered simple security protocols on the Flotilla?"

"Vintage enthusiast?"

"Dead. We call them dead." She glared at him.

"A little overly dramatic, don't you think? Besides, I don't see a flotilla anyplace nearby."

Her shoulders squared off. "Of course, I had to leave. It was like being slowly boiled to death. Really, no concept of personal space. Or property. Bunch of socialists."

"Since we're discussing the story of your life..."

"Who's discussing? I'm holding forth. I'll give you a piece of free advice: shave sometime. Two pieces: _wash_ and shave."

He fixed his grin as the waiter came by with a plate of fragrant delicacies and a tall colourful drink. There was an umbrella sticking out of a piece of carved fruit. She sipped at it daintily through a straw, relaxing visibly, before starting on the finger food.

"It was an OK grift." He drank his coffee and grimaced. It was cold. "Could have been a little cleaner on the exit, is all. Did you really need the heat from C-Sec?"

"Well," she said flatly, "I'm so glad my work is appreciated by such a successful..." She let her look of disdain finish the thought as she accepted another tall drink from the waiter.

"You're too kind," said the man. He turned in his chair and reached for the glass.

She pulled it away. "These are both for me. I have a feeling I'm going to need them."

"You have a reputation."

"How charming. Do you talk like this with all the girls?"

"I need someone with your skills."

"That's not all you need." She sipped from her new drink, then from the old one. "Some manners would be nice."

"Let me make you an offer."

"Oh my, let me check my diary, hmm, sorry, all booked up..."

"How you lifted his credit chit? Right in the surveillance blind spot. Couldn't have been clear more than a second. And then the way you bounced your hack off the till to make it look like it was a legit refund... that was neat. Kind of fell apart went the cops got involved, though, didn't it?"

She was leaning on her elbows, studying him across the table through the polarising filters of her suit, suddenly serious. She waited a long beat before replying. "What makes you think it fell apart?"

"You had to reverse the hack and send him back his money. That was a lot of work to go through for no payoff."

"And yet here I am." She sniffed. "A pity about the company, but one can't have everything, I suppose."

His forehead wrinkled in concentration. "You were never after the money," he said slowly. "Oh... you took his codes. When he got his refund. Neat."

"Ah, so you are not quite as stupid as you smell."

"He someone important?"

"Wouldn't you like to know." She made a string of dumplings disappear in quick succession while he sat there in silence, momentarily stymied.

"Rolan said you were hungry, but I didn't think he meant it literally."

She belched delicately. "Oh well, why didn't you say? Any friend of Rolan's..."

He leaned forward eagerly, ready to lay out the score.

"...can go jump out an airlock after that _reckless_ stunt that steaming _bosh'tet_ pulled, nearly got me locked up, you can tell him from me!"

He recoiled from her jabbing finger. "He didn't say you'd worked together before."

She sat back and contemplated her drink. "Oh, well, worked, no, not exactly. _That_ might have been more interesting than... whatever."

He tilted his head sideways while the implication sank in. "I thought Rolan...?"

"Yes well, I should have realised sooner. The amount of time he spends in front of a mirror? You would not believe. So are you going to tell me about this scheme of yours?"

He took a moment to close his mouth and swallow before starting in.


	4. The Hitter

"Rolan says you're putting a job together." She swept into his one-room apartment, then stopped abruptly. She hadn't been there before. The place was nearly bare.

"I thought you weren't talking to me."

"It better not be about your refund."

"It's not."

"Then it better not be about me."

"It's always about you. It always will be."

There was a pause. She never showed any sign of being disarmed by his honesty, but he kept trying. She sat down on the only chair. "There's a war on, in case you hadn't noticed."

"I've noticed." He tore his eyes away from hers and retreated to sit on the bed, elbows on his knees. She was still in her nurse's uniform. "You look good."

She slouched back in the chair. "I look like shit."

Even exhausted, fed up, he still craved her. He pulled back. "So why'd you come here?"

"Rolan told me you still need a hitter."

He smiled. "You volunteering?"

"Don't," she warned him. "We don't do this anymore."

"This?"

She ignored him. "We have a patient. I... I never met anyone who _so_ just needs to hit something. The doctors can't see it. Psych manuals so far up their asses..."

"OK."

"...and she's just such a..."

"I said OK."

She trailed off. Nodded. "Thank you. I'll write her a pass off the ward."

"Can you do that?"

"No. But I have Dr. Michel's codes."

One reason why he'd fallen for her was that she didn't break the rules, she shattered them. If it was the right thing to do. "It means that much to you."

"Yeah."

He saw her eyes shining and decided not to ask her why.


	5. The Mastermind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

>   
>  The Mastermind Lays Out The Plan  
> 
> 
>   
>    
> _Intercut With The Plan Being Executed_  
>   
> 

"Am I in the right place?"

The tall asari seemed far too elegant for the dusty storage room where they were meeting. Before he could welcome her, Lia'Vael spoke up.

"If you're looking for amateur hour, then yes." She had her arms folded combatively. "Your plan is ridiculous."

\----------------

_Niftu waddles over and cocks a hip. "So...you work security here? Unusual ... for one of our kind._ "

_"It's all automated. ... All I have to do is press a button."_

_Niftu leans a little closer, his centre of gravity precarious. "Fassss...cinating."_

\------------------

"Why is our safe-cracker seducing the guard? And why is the big sexy guy crawling through the ducts in a tuxedo?"

"I'm not entirely clear about that part either," Rolan purred. "But thanks for calling me sexy."

\------------------

_While Niftu distracts the guard, Rolan drops into the secure annex and deploys his omnitool near the control panel. "Like taking candy from a baby," he says._

\-------------------

"Who says that kind of stuff?" Lia'Vael continued, waving her arms. "Why is it even in the plan?"

He exchanged glances with Rolan. "It's a tradition."

Rolan just shrugged.

\-------------------

_Aeian strides purposefully through the lobby of the office complex, her slit ballgown fluttering behind her long shapely legs._

_"Can I help you?" asks the receptionist._

_"I will see Mr Selno now," says Aeian. "I don't have an appointment."_

_The receptionist looks her up and down. He sees something in her eyes that he doesn't want to mess with. "Very well, Ms...?"_

_"Day," she replies. "Lucky Day." She slips past the reception desk and heads for the door. She looks over her shoulder and bats her eyes. The receptionist tries to become one with his desk. "Yours."_

\-------------------

"Oh, my," said Aeian. "Really?" She chuckled uncomfortably.

"Sometimes it's not about how you hit people," offered Rolan. "It's about how you don't."

Lia'Vael made a rude noise. "Ri- _dick_ -ulous," she said, glaring pointedly at Rolan.

"I, for one... appreciate a little variety," Niftu put in.

\----------------

_Selno is suspicious but all Aeian needs to do is distract him for long enough to plug the dongle into his desk terminal._

\----------------

"She hacks terminals now?" Lia'Vael screeched. "Why am I even _here_?"

"Colour commentary?" "Decoration." "...wait, I have... something too..." "Are you _sure_ I'm in the right place?"

\---------------------

_Rolan brushes a flake of dust from his tux and exits the secure annex into the atrium. He glances up at the second level where Aeian is holding the rail, Selno on her arm. She runs her free hand through her fronds, her hip cocked, and Rolan starts to question his sexuality for the first time since his short-lived relationship with the quarian._

\--------------------

"Hah!" Lia'Vael exclaimed. Everyone was looking at her. She sat down again slowly. "Well, maybe I could stay a _little_ longer."

Niftu offered her a bowl of popcorn.

"Where did that come from?" asked Rolan.

"You wouldn't... ask a magician his... secrets, would you?"

\-----------------

_Rolan acquires a pair of champagne flutes and hovers, waiting._

__

_Aeian slaps Selno open handed across the cheek. "You disgust me!" she announces, her commanding voice cutting through the buzz._

_Rolan pushes through the security door to the vault access corridor while all eyes are on the second level balcony._

_Niftu pulls around the intimate embrace with the security guard to flap his hand in the direction of the alarm override. They topple onto the floor in a tangle of stubby limbs. He reaches up and palms the button from the prone position. He spends a little longer making sure the guard is thoroughly distracted._

\---------------------

"Do you have any more of this popcorn?"

\------------------

_"So, I'm here about my refund," he says._

_The salarian salesman doesn't hesitate to show his annoyance. "You again! I keep telling you, I have no idea what you're talking about!"_

_"Here, let me show you." He pulls up something on his omnitool. It is a picture of a cat. "Uh... just a minute."_

"Three minutes." _Lia'Vael's voice crackles in his ear._

\------------------

"That's my... line," said Niftu.

"You've had plenty already!" said Lia'Vael. "So I get to be your sultry stopwatch, is that it?"

"Uhhh..."

"Oh, good grief." She held her head in her hands. Again.

\-----------------

_Private security are showing Aeian the door._

_Niftu is still occupied._

_"I'm going to need more time," says Rolan. "Can you stall?"_

"Two minutes."

\-----------------

"This is rather exciting." Aeian reached for the bowl.

"Wait, what!" Lia'Vael screeched again. "Why am I counting down if you can stall for more time?"

He and Rolan exchanged glances again. "Tradition?"

"Jin...x!" gasped Niftu.

She put her head back in her hands, muttering.

\-----------------

_"Here, right here," he says to the salesman. "It says I can get a refund."_

_"We don't even sell those!" the salarian protests._

"One minute."

\----------------

"Oh, my. That's really what you're expecting to find in the vault?" Aeian looked around at the others as she saw the score.

Even Lia'Vael looked impressed. "Oh hell. OK," she said.

\---------------

_"Nearly there," says Rolan. "Just a few more seconds."_

_The other customer turns. "Just give his damn refund, will you? He's obviously not going away."_

_"Maybe you're right," says the salarian. "Here. Fifteen credits. Enjoy."_

"Abort! Abort!" _Lia'Vael can't quite conceal the satisfaction from her voice._

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, OK, it's a shameless homage to Leverage. Thanks for getting this far :)


End file.
